Prompt: A distant relative drops by unexpectedly at Christmas, from cjnwriter
A/N: I know in Canon it says that "Holmes had been back for some months and I, at his request, had sold my practice and returned to live with him at Baker Street" so since it wasn't clear on what exactly happened in those few months, I took it "a few" to mean "until Christmas' and that Watson had only just sold his practice to make this work.
Also, I apologize to everyone who was expecting Sherrinford. I wanted to include him in this response, but he wasn't nearly a distant enough relation
Summons from my brother were, unfortunately, common enough, and had become more so since my return from my enforced hiatus from London, yet I still did not relish being required to attend one ghastly meeting after another to give my impressions of the situation abroad to whichever pompous minister he thought needed to hear it. I am not my brother's lackey, however much his assistance had proven invaluable in my years abroad.
Happily, such summons had become less and less frequent as the months passed and I settled back into my former life of criminal investigation, though I confess after Moriarty, ordinary criminals seemed dull by comparison. Still, I would not relish such a fight again, however much I may now be proud to call it the pinnacle of my career.
It was some weeks before Christmas 1894 (not that I paid any attention, but the increased baking in the kitchen told me I was soon to be the recipient of more baked goods than any man should eat, in celebration of my first Christmas at home in three years). Watson, in his first year of mourning, would not be celebrating, and so my holiday season would be quieter even than usual, which suited me perfectly. Or would have done, had Mycroft not sent me an invitation to dine with him. For such a solitary man, he certainly did seem to be developing a social life. Pity that I was the only one in it.
"I am not attending one more meeting with a minister of this, or that, or the next thing," I declared upon entering the Stranger's Room at the Diogenes Club. "Watson will begin to think I am avoiding him." Actually, Watson was entirely too busy trying to sell his practice to even take part in my cases, however much he wanted to, and he often bemoaned this state of affairs to me. More, I believe, because he no longer wished to remain in the house he had shared with his wife, than because he did not wish to practice his profession. He was, unfortunately, having difficulty finding a buyer, and between that and working at his practice, he had little time to devote to cases, never mind anything else.
"I hardly think one meeting a week takes up that much of your time," Mycroft said. "Perhaps Dr. Watson is enjoying the break in your conversation. In any case, this is not a government meeting. I merely wanted to ask your company tonight as our cousin Verner insists on visiting." My brother is not a sheepish man, yet such was the look in his eyes as I gave him a glare which made my feelings on this known. "I knew you would certainly not come if I told you the true purpose."
"Cousin Verner is perfectly pleasant, if one enjoys having no chance to speak at all and a great fascination for the inner workings of the ear," I said. Our cousin had not inherited any of the art in the blood from our Vernet ancestors that Mycroft and I had, instead becoming a doctor, where I can only assume he talked to his patients so very much they simply never became ill to avoid having to visit him.
"Now, Sherlock, you might very well be describing yourself," Mycroft said.
"That is a low blow, Mycroft," I said. "I do not pretend the inner workings of the ear are interesting to anybody."
"No, but I doubt anyone feels very differently about your discourses on the various types of ash in use in London."
"That is entirely different; in detection one must-"
We were interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by our cousin Verner, already talking, which accounted for the scandalized look on the page's face as he shut the door behind him.
"-I was saying to that fellow, he has most interesting earlobes, the shape of which indicate-"
"Cousin Verner," Mycroft interjected smoothly. "It is very nice to see you again, I hope you are well? I understand you have had a happy event recently."
"Yes, I was recently married to my dear Charlotte, in a small ceremony. I am so sorry you were unable to attend, as was she, though of course you had an excellent reason, Cousin Sherlock," Verner said.
"Yes, death does tend to get one out of events," I said, though our cousin was talking so much I am certain he did not hear me. He continued talking as we sat down at table, where I could at least be assured that the food was excellent, for Mycroft retained an excellent cook at the Diogenes Club.
Our cousin did not let up talking for the next fifteen minutes, regaling us with stories from his hospital, reliving his entire wedding, and detailing his plans for their future home, which, as of yet, seemed to be entirely imaginary. I confess I rather tuned him out and began watching the passersby outside, deducing their occupations for my pleasure. Mycroft was still making a show of listening intently, though I believe he had long since allowed his mind to wander.
I was brought back into the conversation when Cousin Verner suddenly sighed and said, "I am beginning to doubt I will be able to do anything of the sort, however. I cannot maintain a wife and family on a hospital salary, and I certainly cannot expect my wife to continue living in a common boarding-house as we do, yet I cannot find any practice up for sale that I can afford!" For the first time in my memory, he stopped talking of his own accord, then looked at me strangely. "Why are you smiling so, Cousin Sherlock?"
Mycroft looked ready to upbraid me for my lack of manners, so I hastily arranged my features more appropriately. "Do forgive me. It is only that I believe I have the answer to your problem. You see, I know a doctor who has been trying to sell his practice for some time, with no luck. It is an excellent address, in Kensington."
"That is excellent news!" Verner cried. "I would be immensely pleased with such a practice. It has always been my dream to make enough to allow me to specialize in the science of hearing and the ear, and this would allow me to begin on that path. Thank you, Cousin Sherlock, thank you!"
I waved a hand. Watson would be immensely pleased to sell the practice which had become such a burden to him, and I believe, would be happier to sell it to a young married couple, in the hopes that they would be happier than he had been. "It is no matter," I said. "It will be a great help to my friend as well as to you." To myself as well, I might have added. It was so dreadfully inconvenient to have to go fetch Watson from Kensington whenever I wished to go out to a concert or to dine, or to have to go out on an investigation alone as he could not leave during the day. He found this as annoying as I did, and gradually more of more of his belongings had found their way back to Baker Street so he did not have to tote them back and forth. "I feel rather as if I am split between two places," he had told me recently. "I wish very much I could be done with that place altogether."
Well, now that would be a reality. In time for Christmas too; what a gift that would be, though of course he would not celebrate.
"Ah, so it is Dr. Watson's practice," Verner said knowingly. "There has been much gossip in the streets about whether he would return to Baker Street now that you have been back."
Honestly, why anyone else is interested in the affairs of two middle-aged men is beyond my understanding. The only real disagreement Watson and I have ever had is over my dislike of those lurid tales he published. Imagine my shock when I found he had spent the three years of my "death" publishing two entire series of stories, so my name was known throughout the world.
Still, I could not be angry with him for it. He had not known the truth, after all, and would not have published if he had. In that way, the entire messy thing is my fault.
"He plans to do exactly that," I said. "There is only the matter of his practice. In fact, I have the listing on me." I happened to have a newspaper in which was printed the advertisement.
Verner took it eagerly, though his face fell upon reading it. "That is a steep price! I should not have got my hopes up, for I should have known I could not afford it."
"Perhaps," Mycroft said, speaking for the first time, "since it is to be a private sale between acquaintances - family, even - the price…?"
I shook my head. "I cannot speak for Watson on this matter." I was honor bound not to say more, though I knew he could accept no less than his asking price. My dear Watson has no head for finances, and an unfortunate liking for the racehorses. I remembered this well from our early days at Baker Street, when I held onto his chequebook for him. While Mrs. Watson lived she had not kept such a tight hold on his finances, and after her untimely passing, Watson's liking for gambling had got rather out of control, adding nights at cards with the other doctors at his club to his stints at the racetrack. His shamefaced expression as he explained this to me, one night after I finally inquired why he did not simply move back to Baker Street, if he was so unhappy, remained fixed in my memory.
"I would return anyway, Holmes, even if I was not in financial difficulties," Watson assured me. "I have no wish to remain in that house, after…"
"But of course returning to Baker Street will allow your finances to recover as well," I had finished for him. "You do not need to excuse yourself, Watson. It is entirely sensible, and it is what we both want, after all."
"I am afraid I must decline, then, Cousin Sherlock. I am sorry," Verner said, and he did seem most sorry about it.
I thought for a moment, not wishing the best chance Watson had to be free of his practice and out of financial hardship pass by. "Perhaps there is another solution," I said. "What if I were to invest in your practice?"
My brother and my cousin looked at me quizzically, and I quickly laid out my plan. It seemed a good one to me, to loan my cousin the money for the practice, to be paid back by him over a period of several years.
My cousin stared at me in shock. "You would simply purchase a practice for me?" he asked.
I understood his surprise, for we had never been close. But it was the obvious answer to our mutual problem. "Well, I would expect to be paid back, though I hardly care about the terms otherwise." I would simply have given him the money, or indeed, have simply bought it from Watson, but I knew that doing so would only embarrass them. "Watson very much wishes to be done with the whole thing," I said.
"Well, then, I see no reason why we should not shake on it right now!" Verner said enthusiastically. "Thank you, Cousin Sherlock, thank you!"
"I suggest that, before making any arrangements, we ought to visit a solicitor and strike out terms," Mycroft said. "You may then approach Dr. Watson with your offer."
"Only do not tell him of my involvement!" I said suddenly. I am rarely conscious of such things as class and financial differences; for all that matters to me is the interest of the case, and in all other cases, the merits of the individuals. Yet I was forced to live in a society utterly stratified by class, and I suddenly knew if Watson were to know of how easily I loaned my cousin such a sum, he would feel the difference in our situations most acutely. He would also, if he knew of my involvement, feel he was in my debt. I wished neither of these to happen; for it would change our friendship irrevocably. Watson was my friend and equal; to my eyes, no amount of money could change that, and it seemed entirely natural that if I had the means to help him, I should do so.
He has certainly done the same for me, in countless other ways. I am more in his debt, than he in mine.
"You have grown most sentimental in your years away," Mycroft said as we left the solicitor's office. "It is surprising, Sherlock."
I merely turned my coat against the cold. "There are perhaps things whose importance I discounted before my time away," I said.
It is not everyone who receives a second chance. I know well how lucky I am.